


i found a home in you

by 99izm



Category: Produce 101 (TV), Wanna One (Band)
Genre: Dogs, Domestic Fluff, First Kiss, Fluff, M/M, Meeting the Parents
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-11
Updated: 2017-10-11
Packaged: 2019-01-16 02:14:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12333405
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/99izm/pseuds/99izm
Summary: Perhaps, it isn't so bad that Jihoon doesn't get to go home for Chuseok. Not when it means he gets to visit Woojin's home in Busan.





	i found a home in you

**Author's Note:**

  * For [slackeuse](https://archiveofourown.org/users/slackeuse/gifts).



> happy birthday [jess](http://archiveofourown.org/users/slackeuse/pseuds/slackeuse)! i hope i surprised you with this tooth-rotting fluff, and i hope you like it LMFAOMFKNASD
> 
> unbeta'ed, please let me know if there are any typos/ grammar errors!

Jihoon honestly can’t believe it.

It’s Chuseok, one of the biggest holidays celebrated in South Korea, and his mother had just sent him a text message that reads:

> _Jihoon-ah, the rest of the family’s leaving for a cruise tonight.  
>  _ _Don’t come back! Have fun in the dormitory!_

He doesn’t know if he wants to laugh or cry. A part of him is upset that his family actually planned for a cruise (and they didn’t invite him), but another part of him can’t get over the absurdity of the situation. Jihoon doesn’t want to admit it but he does miss his family: he misses spending time with them (even his older brother who’s busy with college), watching bad evening dramas with his dad, and sitting down at the dinner table to eat the home cooked food that his mother makes. 

But he doesn’t want to look like the unreasonable and petty younger brother, who gets upset at his own exclusion, because he does understand why his family would have done that. After all, it’s difficult for them to make plans with someone who’s an idol, a celebrity who doesn’t even know if he’ll be back for Chuseok. 

He lets out a loud sigh, and it reverberates in the room. Woojin’s busy watching his drama on his laptop, Guanlin’s busy studying Korean in the living room, Minhyun-hyung’s nagging at Jaehwan to start cleaning up his space—the rest of them are too busy to be involved in listening to his problems. Jihoon _does_ want to talk to someone though, wants to vent his frustrations out and he promptly gets off his bed, and he settles on Woojin’s bed with a loud thud. 

It’s a reflex action that prompts Woojin to plug out a single ear bud, and he asks, “What’s wrong?” 

“I can’t believe that my family’s going on a cruise over Chuseok,” Woojin nods. “Without _me._ ” 

“That’s a good decision. At least they wouldn’t have to deal with how annoying you are.” 

“Hey!” Jihoon punches his shoulder. There isn’t any bite to it, but Woojin pretends that Jihoon’s some wrestler who has much more strength than he actually does. “You’re so _mean_ , why are we even friends?” 

“That’s a question I ask myself every day,” Woojin scoffs. Jihoon sighs again, and he hopes that it tells Woojin that he _is_ upset, that he wants some sort of comfort. But when Woojin doesn’t react, and goes back to watching his drama, Jihoon feels like he had just been punched in the gut, and he makes a movement to get off the bed. Fuck Woojin. Fuck his family. Fuck everything. He’s just going to relish in good old _me_ time. 

Woojin isn’t looking at him and Jihoon’s heart leaps when Woojin opens his mouth to say, “ _W-Well,_ if you don’t mind, you could come over to my house over Chuseok.” 

Jihoon actually really needs to revaluate his life choices, and take control of his lack of a “brain to mouth” filter, because he jumps onto Woojin and yells “Yes!” before he realises what it actually _means_ to stay over at Woojin’s house over Chuseok. 

He forgets that his heart races whenever Woojin initiates skinship with him—the hand holding, hair fixing, and hugs that they share. He forgets that the adrenaline begins to course faster through his veins whenever Woojin flashes that snaggletooth at him. He forgets that he actually has that huge ass crush on Park Woojin—and he has no idea how he’s actually going to survive the next few days of Chuseok, _alone_ with Park Woojin. 

Admittedly, Woojin’s family is going to be there, but the rest of the Wanna One members aren’t (and he can’t run away from Woojin to hide in Jinyoung’s room) and Jihoon thinks that this is probably the _worst_ decision that he has ever made.

 

—

 

After dinner, Jihoon rushes straight to Jinyoung’s room. He makes sure that the door is locked, preventing Woojin (or anyone else, _really._ He didn’t need more people to know about his feelings for Woojin.) He didn’t even tell Jinyoung about how he felt, but perhaps, he’s a tad _too_ obvious because Jinyoung just scoffed at him and said, “Did you really think you were doing a good job at hiding your feelings?” 

“Jinyoung,” Jihoon says, tightening his grip on Jinyoung’s hands. They are both sitting down on the bed on the lower bunk, and he has his hands wrapped over Jinyoung’s for moral support. “You need to save me.” 

“Save you from what?” Jinyoung squints at him. “Woojin-hyung?” 

He yells softly at the mention of Woojin’s name. “Y-yes, how did you know?” 

“If you haven’t realised, it’s always about Woojin-hyung,” Jinyoung rolls his eyes, like he can’t believe that Jihoon is actually _that_ dumb. “So, what’s up now?” 

“My family’s going on a cruise over Chuseok _without me_ ,” Jihoon explains, giving an added emphasis on how they are going on it without him. “I told Woojin about it, and he invited me to his house—and I said _yes,_ without thinking. What do I do Jinyoung? How am I going to live through the next few days?” 

He doesn’t give Jinyoung any time to speak, before he lets go off his hands on Jinyoung’s for his hands to fly up to cup his cheeks. “Jinyoung, I have a final request—will you be willing to help me bury my body?” 

“You’re so overdramatic, hyung,” Jinyoung rolls his eyes (again) and he leans back against the edge of the bed. “It’s not going to be that _bad._ ” 

“You wouldn’t know!” Jihoon tries to defend himself. “I have to meet his mom, and his dad, and even Yerimmie! Oh my god, I’m going to see Yerimmie! What if they don’t like me? Do you know how _frightening_ the Busan- _satoori_ is, you city folk!” 

“That’s fast,” Jinyoung says plainly. “You’re already meeting his parents. Remember to send me a letter when you’re getting married.” 

“Hey!” Jihoon huffs, trying to resist the urge to punch Jinyoung in the face. 

“Alright, alright,” Jinyoung places his hands in front of him, making the notion of telling to Jihoon to calm down. “It’s not going to be _that_ bad. It’s not like you’re going there alone, Woojin’s going to be there too.” 

“Also,” Jinyoung adds after a particularly large exhale. “If you’re really bothered about it, you could always retract your words, and tell him that you don’t want to head down with him."

“That’s true,” Jihoon doesn’t realise when his fingers are under his lip and he’s biting his fingernails. It’s a bad habit, but bad habits are hard to break—just like his affection for Woojin. “But—“ 

“But what?” Jinyoung raises a single eyebrow. “You want to go, don’t you? Stop being afraid. Man up, you idiot.” 

Jihoon sighs. Why are feelings always complicated? He wishes that he never had this crush on Woojin. He knows that the only reason why things have become _so_ complicated is because of his treacherous heart—that it does flips at the _wrong_ times, that it gets shaken up whenever Woojin’s in the picture. It would have been so much easier without these feelings, and he would just go over to Woojin’s house like a normal friend—one that just wanted to genuinely see Woojin’s family for himself. 

“Thanks, Jinyoung-ah,” he whispers and he makes the notion to pull Jinyoung into a hug. He knows that no matter what advice Jinyoung gives him, it has never been his problem and it’s still up to Jihoon, _himself_ to actually work things out. 

“You’re welcome, hyung,” Jihoon feels the smile that’s tugging on Jinyoung’s lips—that there is a sense of sincere happiness that he’s able to help, even though he can’t give him the solutions.

 

—

 

The train ride from Seoul to Busan takes two and a half hours. 

Jihoon’s been staring at his ticket stub for the past fifteen minutes. He doesn’t want to look at Woojin, for he’s afraid that his emotions will spill out like a bowl of soup, that he’ll make his anxiousness over what’s about to happen obvious. He tries to look at everything, anywhere but Woojin but it doesn’t quite work because Woojin knows him like a book, and he sends him worried glances every few minutes. 

It’s when they head into a tunnel when Woojin grabs his hand, and he rubs his thumb over the back of Jihoon’s palm. It’s meant to be reassuring and comforting, but Jihoon feels his heart beat faster. He instinctively shifts his gaze to focus on Woojin when Woojin opens his mouth to speak, and he asks, “Are you okay?” 

“Yeah, I’m great!” Jihoon beams at him, and he thinks that he’s doing a _terrible_ job at being convincing. “Never better!” 

“You know,” Woojin raises a single eyebrow at him. Jihoon thinks that his eyebrow hairs look funny, without the thick eyebrow makeup. “You’re a pretty damn bad liar.” 

Jihoon doesn’t know if he should feel insulted or heartened by that comment. On one hand, it’s terrible to be called out as a bad liar, but on another hand, it also means that Woojin observes him, observes him close enough for him to be able to tell apart his truths from his lies. 

“Alright, alright,” Jihoon relents. It’s not going anywhere if he decides to continue hiding his nervousness, hiding his fears of meeting Woojin’s family anyway. “I’m just scared, okay? Of meeting your parents, of meeting Yerimmie.” 

Woojin gives him a look—and it’s one of those looks that Jihoon can’t quite decipher. Woojin’s hard to read: there are times where the emotions shines so evidently in those beautiful eyes, but there are also times where his eyes look blank, and Jihoon can’t tell what he’s thinking. 

“You don’t have to be worried about anything, you know,” Woojin explains, and there’s just this, faraway (if Jihoon identified it right) look in his eyes. “I’ve been talking to my parents about you, too. And they wouldn’t be mean to anyone that I like.” 

Jihoon feels his heart race at the mention of the l word. He knows that Woojin isn’t referring to _like_ , in that sense, but it’s hard to control his traitorous heart. Perhaps, Woojin does realise the potential of misunderstanding the _l_ word, because his face flushes red, he lets go of his grip on Jihoon’s hand to wave them in the air. “You know, I mean—like, as a friend, right?” 

He tries to ignore the way his heart sinks. He should have saw it coming, after all. There’s no way that Woojin could possibly _like_ him. They are good friends, and it would always stay that way. So he bites his lower lip and says, “Of course.” 

“That’s good.”Woojin lets out a sigh of relief. He continues, “But I’m serious okay? You don’t have to worry about my parents, because they’ll definitely like you.” 

“I’ll try,” Jihoon answers. It doesn’t sound convincing at all, and he think Woojin can sense it—but he doesn’t say anything.

 

—

 

They manage to reach Woojin’s house in one piece. It’s a feat considering that Woojin didn’t realise that his family had moved, until they reached the old place, to find that the dog that’s barking at them isn’t a poodle—and Woojin had to whip out his phone to call his parents, to find out their new address. Thankfully, their new house isn’t too far, about a fifteen minute walk away. 

They are standing at the doorstep when Jihoon remembers that he needs to make a good first impression, no matter how much Woojin tries to reassure that his family would _love_ him. He switches to the Camera mode on his phone, and its awkward trying to fix his hair while holding up his phone at the same time. 

Woojin reaches over, and he knocks his hand out—and he fixes Jihoon’s hair. Jihoon hates it whenever Woojin does so—it’s _such_ an intimate action, that Jihoon doesn’t know how to react because they aren’t even lovers, aren’t even _dating_. Woojin fixes a few more strands, brushing the stray fine hairs away from his eyes and he smiles triumphantly when it’s all to his liking. 

“Don’t worry, it’ll be fine,” Woojin reminds him. 

“Easy for you to say,” Jihoon grumbles. Woojin rolls his eyes, and he rings the doorbell. 

Yerim’s the one who answers the door, and Jihoon’s taken aback at how close she resembles Woojin. It’s hard to describe, but Jihoon can safely say that it’s easy to identify her as Woojin’s sister even though they are parts where they don’t look alike. She smiles at Woojin, and Jihoon thinks that it’s the first time he’s seeing this side of Woojin—this side of Woojin where he absolute cherishes and spoils his younger sister, and treats her with a sense of love and affection that Jihoon can only describe it as sibling love. He sweeps her into the tightest hug, and he manages to lift her off the ground for a slight moment, and Jihoon feels like he’s an intruder, invading a private moment between Woojin and Yerim. 

“This is Jihoon,” Woojin says after he lets go, extending a hand out to introduce Jihoon to his sister. It’s different to see Woojin here. It’s like he had put on a different skin—the one that he wears when he’s in Busan and Jihoon finds his head hurting slightly at how he’s suddenly being flooded with _satoori_. 

Yerim rolls her eyes, “Of course I know who he is, oppa. Did you think I never watched Produce 101?” 

Woojin clenches his fist and rubs it against the top of her head. There is no harmful intent in it, just plain old cute sibling affection. “Who taught you to be so rude, huh? Is it that Dongho-oppa that you’re always talking about?” 

“No!” She denies vehemently, and Jihoon tries not to chuckle at the way she flushes red. Whoever this Dongho is, Jihoon thinks, definitely means something more to Yerim. “Let go of me, oppa!” 

Woojin does let go and Yerim takes a step forward and extends her hand towards Jihoon, “Nice to meet you, Jihoon-oppa.” 

“Nice to meet you too, Yerimmie,” he smiles at her and takes her hand. 

Yerim beams at him, and then she’s bouncing away into the living room and yelling, “Mom! Oppa’s back with his friend!” 

Jihoon lets out a breath that he never knew he was holding, and Woojin looks at him to give him a smile. The snaggletooth peaks out, and Woojin says, “See. Nothing to worry about.”

 

—

 

They must have arrived earlier than expected because Woojin’s father is still out at the market to procure the ingredients for dinner. Mrs Park tells him to make himself at home, but there’s just something that holds him back—it isn’t his house, after all. 

Jihoon’s in the living room, and the sound of the television is white noise. He never really cared for dramas, in the same way that Woojin did, but Woojin looks utterly engrossed in whatever drama that was currently being aired on repeat. He doesn’t realise when Choco jumps onto his lap, but there’s suddenly a weight on it and when he looks down, he’s greeted with a fluff of brown fur. 

Dogs make him soft, and he pats Choco’s hand. Choco barks gently at him, and it’s like a sound of approval— _yes, human, continue patting me._ Jihoon’s focused on alternating between patting Choco’s head and rubbing her stomach, and he misses the way Woojin stares at him. 

“See, even Choco likes you,” Woojin comments, and it breaks Jihoon out of his revelry. 

“Of course,” Jihoon scoffs. “I’m cute as hell, why wouldn’t she like me?” 

Woojin rolls his eyes, but he scoots nearer to Jihoon and extends a hand out to ruffle his hair. Jihoon pouts at the movement because Woojin’s ruining his own handiwork. “Good to see that you’re back to your obnoxious self.” 

“I am _not_ obnoxious, poopface!” 

Woojin laughs, and Jihoon really wants to sock him in the face. “Whatever you say, wink maniac.”

 

—

 

The doorbell rings when Woojin’s dad is back. 

His hands are filled with grocery bags, and both of them rush to the corridor to take the bags off him and deposit them in the kitchen. Jihoon does remember to look into Mr Park’s eyes, and he bows, “Hello, Mr Park. I’m Park Jihoon.” 

“Ah, you’re Jihoon?” Mr Park smiles at him, and he lifts a hand up to ruffle his hair. It’s a touch of warmth, and it creates a more inviting and welcoming impression—that he isn’t as scary at the Busan dad Jihoon thought he was. “It’s nice to finally see you after hearing Woojin talk so much about you.” 

Jihoon whips his head to look at Woojin, who’s being to turn red at the mention. “Dad, I told you not to say anything about _that!_ ” 

“Please don’t tell me you told him my embarrassing stories,” Jihoon glares at Woojin. Woojin always laughs whenever Jihoon glares though, saying that “even Choco looks scarier than you when you’re angry.” But after seeing Choco in person today, Jihoon begs to differ. 

Mr Park simply laughs at their exchange, at their reactions and he looks at Jihoon, “Don’t worry. He didn’t say anything bad about you.” 

“That’s good to hear,” and Jihoon _does_ let out a sigh of relief.

 

—

 

Indeed, there wasn’t anything for Jihoon to worry about because Woojin’s family _is_ welcoming. It reminds Jihoon of his own family, from the way they express their affections for one another by exchanging insults and remarks. It also doesn’t help that Woojin’s mother had prepared all the food on the table, and he finds himself missing the taste of the handmade kimchi that his mother would make every year (and how he and his brother would pitch in to help—rolling the cabbage around the tub, ensuring that the chili powder and paste does get to every inch and corner). 

“I hope you like the food,” Mrs Park says and Jihoon didn’t realise that he had been stoning out, that his chopstick had lingered in his mouth for a moment too long. 

“It’s great, _really_ good,” Jihoon exclaims. “Thank you, Mrs Park.” 

“No problem,” she smiles back at him, and she makes the notion to get Woojin to plant a few more stalks of vegetables, a few more slices of pork belly on his plate. “Eat up.” 

“Thank you.” 

He tries to ignore the way his saliva gets caught up in his throat, tries to ignore how the memories of his own family eating together during Chuseok, tries to suppress how much he misses his family. Jihoon feels Woojin squeeze his thigh beneath the table, and he finds himself latching onto the warmth.

 

—

 

Woojin’s bedroom is surprisingly intimate, considering that he had never actually been here, to his new house. His family probably knew him _very_ well—his likes and dislikes—because there are dance trophies that are displayed, and the décor of the room just screamed _Park Woojin_ to him. Jihoon muffles a scoff when he sees a Bigbang poster at the side of the room—it’s an obscure corner, and he resists the urge to tease Woojin when he sees how bright his face grows, and how he tries to vehemently hide the poster from Jihoon’s line of vision. 

It’s cute, Jihoon thinks, and he wants to continue seeing all these sides of Park Woojin that no one else gets to see. He wants the two of them to have their own private moments, intimate ones that the other Wanna One members don’t know of. 

He relishes in how he had been exposed to the Park Woojin that he had never seen today—the way he bantered so naturally with his family, in a way that’s different from how he talks to Jihoon, and the rest of the members, the rest of the trainees; how he had settled back so smoothly and easily into his Busan _satoori_ , and how it’s easier for him to find the _right_ words without thinking of the Seoul speak. 

Jihoon’s staring at the ceiling, and he’s trying to count sheeps but it doesn’t do anything to help him fall asleep faster, because his thoughts of Park Woojin are keeping him awake. 

“You still awake, Jihoon?” 

Perhaps, it’s because of the tone of Woojin’s voice—that it sounds softer, gentler than what Jihoon’s used to that he’s at a loss. He doesn’t know what to say, and he’s secretly thankful that he isn’t looking at Woojin, that he’s facing away from Woojin who’s on the bed. 

He hears Woojin exhale and then, Jihoon hears the shuffling of bedsheets, and then he feels Woojin’s presence next to him, on the floor. It’s loud and deafening in the silent room and Jihoon hopes that Woojin can’t hear the way his heart is racing.  

“Thank you for coming back to Busan with me,” Woojin breathes out. “I know that it must be awkward for you to meet my family. A part of me was afraid that you would suddenly back out, but you didn’t, and you’re _here_.” 

“It’s so stupid how I can’t bring myself to say any of these in front of you, when you’re awake. Honestly, Jihoon, I… I…” There’s another loud exhale, and Jihoon feels his own breath hitch. The way the Woojin talk is unbearably hopeful, and it almost sounds like a damn _confession_. 

“I… really like you, Jihoon. It’s probably why I was secretly happy that you don’t have anywhere else to go on Chuseok, so that I could have an excuse to bring you home, for you to see the people who matter to me. I really _like_ you.” 

“But I know, you don’t see me _that_ way. We’re just friends, co-workers, after all. We’re co-workers who are together, in a group with an expiry date, aren’t we? I can’t expect you to fall for me too, not when—not when the future out there is so—“ 

Woojin doesn’t get to continue what he’s saying because Jihoon turns around and he presses a kiss to Woojin’s mouth. It’s nothing like how Jihoon imagined first kisses to be like. There’s no awkwardness, no messy lips crashing onto one another. Their lips meld against each other like they’ve been kissing for half their lifetimes, and Jihoon can taste the sweetness of Woojin’s mouth. He feels the way Woojin wraps a single arm around his waist, and then his other hand is moving up to cup Jihoon’s cheek—and it pulls him closer and deepens their kiss. 

Jihoon feels Woojin’s own weight on him, feeling the way Woojin pushes him down harder into the mattress to deepen the kiss, so that Jihoon feels nothing but him, him and _only him_. They kiss until they run out of air, and when they part, Jihoon feels like he’s in a daze. It seems to surreal to him, that he took the first step, that he was the one to press his lips against Woojin’s, and to show that his feelings are mutual. 

They don’t say anything, and Jihoon feels the warmth of Woojin’s breath on his face, on his mouth. They are so close, and Jihoon thinks that he can see all of Woojin’s emotions in his eyes—in the way they are hazy with confusion, but also, the way they light up in sheer happiness. 

“I really like you too, Park Woojin,” Jihoon breathes out.

“Like I couldn’t tell,” Woojin scoffs. “You just kissed the fuck out of me.” 

This time, Jihoon’s the one to roll his eyes. “You thought that I didn’t like you back, poopface.” 

“Shut up, you damn wink maniac.” 

“Stop calling my winks a _mania_!” 

“You have to face the truth, darling. It _is_ an addiction.”

“I’m not addicted to winking!”

“That’s true,” Woojin pretends to muse. “Not when you’re addicted to _me._ ”

 

—

 

It’s three days later when they are back in the dormitory. It’s hard for them to act like how they were before Chuseok started. It’s hard to pretend that they are friends, when they have become something more than friends. It’s awkward to bring up the topic, “We’re dating!” to the rest of the members—it just comes across to be jarring, and neither of them knows _how_ to do so. 

Though, Jihoon thinks that they are obvious: from the way he can’t stop his eyes from landing on Woojin, from the way Woojin’s hand lingers on his shoulder for a moment too long, from the way they look at each other at the dinner table. But no one brings it up, and Jihoon feels himself swallowing the words that he wants to say.

He does talk to Woojin about it when they’re in the toilet. It’s one of the few moments that they get _alone_ time, since it isn’t awkward for members to shower together when they are in a rush in the mornings. “Should we tell the members about _us_?” 

“Do you want to?” Woojin doesn’t look at Jihoon, but he’s pressing the shampoo into Jihoon’s hair and Jihoon feels himself relaxing into Woojin’s touch. 

“I don’t know,” Jihoon mumbles. “It feels awkward to bring it up, but it also feels like something we should tell them about.” 

“Then,” Woojin stops massaging the shampoo into his scalp for a brief moment, and Jihoon whines softly at the loss of that comforting sensation. “Let’s talk to them about it.” 

“Alright, poopface.”

 

—

 

It’s over dinner that Woojin coughs to get the attention of the rest of the members.

It does manage to get everyone’s attention, because Woojin doesn’t usually do that and Jihoon’s usually more focused on eating than looking worried. Woojin starts, “We have something to tell you.” 

Their hands find each other’s naturally, and Jihoon feels Woojin squeeze his hand. He looks at Woojin, who’s exhaling loudly in nervousness but he knows that he’s ready to say out the words, “We’re dating.” 

There’s a blanket of silence that washes onto them, and Daehwi’s the first to react, with a warm smile and he says, “We all know, hyung. We saw it coming from a mile away.” 

Jinyoung shoots Jihoon a wink and the rest of the members nod in unison. Jihoon musters up all the courage that he has in his tiny body and he manages to say, “I know. But we felt that it’ll be better for us to actually say it out to you guys.” 

“Aw,” Seongwoo-hyung coos and he gets out of his chair to envelope the two of them into a hug. “That’s nice of you.”

It’s almost like it’s a cue because the rest of the members also follow suit, and it ends up being a group hug. They laugh at the awkwardness: eleven flailing limbs that are trying to wrap themselves around each other, but Jihoon thinks that there’s some sort of warmth that emanates from this—that it feels like home.

 

—

(After dinner, Jihoon and Woojin are lying down in Woojin’s bed to read the latest update of a manga that they both read when Jihoon feels a presence looking at them. He taps on Woojin’s shoulder, signalling him to pause and when they turn back, it’s Minhyun-hyung.

“Kids,” Mninhyun-hyung begins. Jihoon didn’t realise when Guanlin and Jaehwan-hyung had left the room, and he almost feels afraid of the seriousness that Minhyun-hyung is giving out. He doesn’t know what to expect, and from the way Woojin shivers slightly next to him, he knows that it isn’t just him who feels this way. “We need to talk.”

“Talk about what?” Jihoon’s surprised that he managed to find his voice.

“Don’t worry,” Minhyun-hyung offers them a reassuring smile. “It’s just The Talk.”)

**Author's Note:**

> rea: i need to focus on my essays for college!  
> also rea: fuck i want to write 2park fic
> 
> hit me up on [twitter](http://twitter.com/99izm) if you'd like to talk 2park! or you can leave me something on my [cc](https://curiouscat.me/chamwink) too!


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